‘Not bad for a first attempt, old boy!’ thought Sebastian, smiling as they entered the celebrated dining-room of Castle Hill, with its pictures and bronzes, and statuary, all of the very best, and ‘bought by people who understood such things,’ as Mr. Spenceley was wont modestly to say, when any one praised any of his artistic treasures. Mrs. Spenceley did not look like a person who would have exactly a discriminating taste in the matter of genre-paintings, or landscape, but Sebastian broke the silence between them by remarking on a little picture hanging opposite to him. ‘Yes; it’s by a person called Ansdell, I believe,’ said Mrs. Spenceley. ‘They say it’s very good; but for my part I’m no judge of such things.’ Sebastian bowed, and then, thinking that perhaps local topics might prove more successful than artistic ones, said he feared that distress was already beginning amongst the work-people. Mrs. Spenceley turned with some vivacity to her guest. ‘You’re right, Mr. Mallory. If it goes on as it is doing, it’ll break some ’earts before all’s over.’ ‘Do you visit much amongst them?’ ‘Not so much as I could wish. There’s some of the poor creatures will soon be fair clemming--starving, I mean.’ Mrs. Spenceley sank her voice, and every now and then her eye turned with a little nervous, wavering glance towards her lord at the other end of the table. ‘You see I shouldn’t like to go amongst them so much without I could keep them a bit. I _should_ like to have a soup-kitchen!’ she added with feeling; ‘but Spenceley doesn’t quite approve of it. He says that many of them have money laid by, and he’s of opinion that we must let them help themselves a bit before we begin to help them.’ ‘From a politico-economical point of view Mr. Spenceley is perhaps right,’ said Sebastian, glancing down the table at the red-faced, coarse-featured man, with a heavy jaw not devoid of cruelty; and noting that same jaw reproduced even more obtrusively and unpleasantly in the son; scarcely at all in the daughter, or at least only in a manner which gave an expression of decision to the charming mouth. ‘I know nothing about politics,’ said Mrs. Spenceley; ‘and you may mark my words--those that’s starving will want bread--not politics.’ ‘Certainly they will. Unfortunately you often cannot give them the one without a good deal of the other.’